


The Nightmare Before Halloween

by Cinaed



Series: The Best of Carolina The Teenage Witch [7]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sabrina the Teenage Witch Fusion, Halloween, Holidays, M/M, Magic, Pre-Slash, Unexpected Visitors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 08:44:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17846177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: Carolina and Simmons both learn the meaning of Halloween, Church gets an unexpected holiday visitor, Grif lets slip a few holiday traditions of his own, and there's a lot of candy for everyone. Well, except for Church.





	The Nightmare Before Halloween

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween either a few months late or several months early! Also we're in the home stretch of season one of this AU. Only...six more seasons to go. :D 
> 
> Thanks go out to Aryashi for working on this one with me and chat for helping with the Grimmons movie night and the respective Halloween dinners!

_Dear Doctor Church,_

_As I helped in the planning of the Witches Council Halloween Ball, I was struck by the realization that you will be alone this Halloween. I tried to acquire an invitation for you, but the Council has a reputation to uphold. You understand their refusal,  of course. I do hope you’ll seek out company for the holiday. It would be quite sad otherwise, wouldn’t it?_

_Sincerely,_

_Malcolm Hargrove, Subhead of the Witches Council_

 

* * *

 

There’s orange and black carpet in the hallway, and the wallpaper has tiny stenciled bats. Carolina curls her toes into the soft fabric, a little confused. Grey is prone to redecorating the house on a whim, but usually she asks for Carolina’s opinion before she makes major changes. Plus, the colors and bats don’t really match Grey’s usual theme.    
  
Church opens his door and groans. “Aw, crap. It’s Halloween, isn’t it?” When Carolina nods, he groans again, even louder, and dramatically flops against the door-frame. “Ugh, I should’ve said yes to Caboose when he suggested I go trick-or-treating with him and his sisters. I wonder what Grey and Kimball have planned.”   
  
“Why would they have plans?” Carolina asks.   
  
He grimaces. “Right. So Halloween is a family holiday for witches. Like Christmas for gentiles? All that ‘spend time with your relatives’ stuff. And since I don’t actually have parents and yours can’t be here, I bet Grey or Kimball have some feel-good crap for us tonight.”   
  
“Oh,” Carolina says. She’s not sure what to think of it. It’s nice to have a potential new holiday to celebrate with her parents once the two years are up, but she can’t muster up much enthusiasm over a holiday where people dress up in costumes and eat a lot of candy. She shrugs. “I guess we’ll see.”   
  
“HAPPY HALLOWEEN!” Grey’s amplified voice booms, making them both jump. Church yelps, ducking instinctively as the bats peel away from the wallpaper and flutter around their heads. “COME DOWN FOR A HALLOWEEN BREAKFAST!”   
  
Church scowls, flinching as he swats at the bats, and growls, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m glad we have school today.”

 

* * *

 

“Not that I care,” Grif says, stretched out on the couch, “but you’re going to be late.”

Simmons takes a sip of his coffee. “I have a few more minutes.” He flips to the next page of the spellbook. Reading over the ingredients, he sighs. “Trace amounts of harsh reality. Right. Because that’s something I can get in a bottle.”

“It’s expensive as crap,” Grif says. He sounds half-asleep. “You could substitute Uncomfortable Truths. That’s cheaper.”

“Oh yeah, I can totally get my hands on that. Thanks,” Simmons mutters. He has almost a full notebook of experiments now, after weeks of working his way through the photocopied spellbook. Only the blue spell was a success, and he hasn’t been able to replicate it since. Everything else has been an outright failure. Some of the spells he hasn’t even bothered to attempt; they’re on a list labeled _Spells to try when Grif is human,_ because the ingredients are only available in the Other Realm.

Simmons darts a quick glance towards Grif. When he’s sure that Grif isn’t paying any attention, he pulls out that final list, quickly scribbling down this latest spell. He feels a little stupid doing it, and even more stupid thinking eight years into the future.

To distract himself, he flips to the next spell. It’s a house improvement one that turns a small room into a ballroom. A sentence catches his eye, and he frowns, rereading it twice before he looks over at Grif. “This spell is perfect for arranging places at large parties and the yearly Halloween family get-together. What does that mean?”

Grif opens his eyes. “Nothing,” he says, but his tail starts twitching.

Simmons frowns. “It’s not nothing if the book mentions it. Is Halloween a special holiday for witches? I know we’re keeping our heads down and pretending I’m an oblivious mortal, but I could leave for the evening if you wanted to invite your family or something--”

“Halloween is like mortal Thanksgiving,” Grif says. “Super boring, and with annoying relatives. Hard pass.”

Simmons can’t really argue with that. It’s not like he’s visited his parents since he quit law school to become a teacher. He’s about to shrug and move on, when he realizes that this is the first time in eight months Grif has even admitted that he has relatives. Simmons pauses, fighting against a frown. How much does he even know about Grif? He knows Grif’s favorite foods, his love of sarcasm and sleeping, his laziness, his frustration at being turned into a cat over helping the wrong person, but Grif’s kept his mouth shut on anything more personal.

Simmons sets the spellbook aside, curious. “So you don’t even want to call any of them?”

“Nope,” Grif says. “Though if you want to get some discounted candy, sounds good.”

“I’m not buying candy,” Simmons says.

Grif resettles on the couch. His eyes half-close. “I can’t wait for kids to egg your house.”

 

* * *

 

“So where’s the candy?” Tucker asks.

Simmons is in the middle of writing on the board. Carolina watches as he sets his chalk down and turns towards the class. There’s a faint smile on his face. “I’m not giving anyone candy.”

“Someone’s getting their house egged,” York mutters behind Carolina, sotto voce, and Tucker snickers.  

The slight smile vanishes. “I heard that, York. Though how do you plan to egg a house when you don’t know my address?”

South half-raises her hand, slouched in her chair. “We all know your car.”

Wash nods. “Yeah, the chemistry bumper sticker kind of gives it away,”

Judging by Simmons’ expression, he hasn’t considered this. His lips press tightly together, clearly swallowing back a few responses, and then he says sharply, “If there’s a single thing done to my car, you’re all getting a daily quiz for a _month_.”

“Ugh,” Tucker says. “First Mr. Donut made us recite dumb poetry to get candy, and now we’re being threatened with quizzes? Worst Halloween ever.”

Now Simmons really does roll his eyes, but another smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. He looks pleased with himself. “If you would stop interrupting, I was going to say I’m not _giving_ you candy. Today we’re going to _make_ candy.”

“You have my attention,” Church says, leaning forward. He’s been gloomy all day, preemptively annoyed by whatever Kimball and Grey have planned for that night. Carolina must look amused, because he makes a face at her. “Shut up,” he adds in a whisper, though she hasn’t said anything.

“Your teeth are going to fall out,” she whispers back.

Simmons claps his hands, drawing everyone’s attention. “Today, we’re going to make rock candy. And then on Monday we’ll enjoy the rock candy and move on to our next module!”

“Wait, why Monday?”

“The crystallization process takes that long to--”

“Lost my interest,” Church mutters, sinking back in his seat.

Simmons sighs. “Really? You guys can’t wait a few days?” When most of the class shrugs, he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I mean, I could just skip to the next module, and make rock candy at home instead--”

“No!” Caboose protests. “Mr. Simmons, I want candy.” He drops his voice to a carrying whisper. “My sisters don’t share.”

“Yeah, late candy is better than no candy at all,” Niner says.

“Well, with that ringing endorsement,” Simmons says dryly, “let’s get started. We’re boiling water, so I want everyone wearing goggles today. You especially, York. I heard about home ec and the brownie batter incident. How many times have you been to the emergency room this year?”

York sighs. Today is his first day without an eye-patch in over a week. He shrugs. “Three. I would’ve been fine, but North had to add those extra chocolate chips....” 

 

* * *

 

“It’s too bad that it’s Friday,” Wash says as the last bell rings. This earns him a round of weird looks until he adds, “It’s Shabbat? Otherwise Carolina could experience a real American Halloween.”

Niner smirks. “Come on, Wash. If Carolina could do Halloween, she’d go to North’s party, not help babysit your sisters. I heard he swore to top Libby's party.”

"Not sure how you can top Libby streaking last year," Tucker says. 

Meanwhile Wash scowls at Niner. “I’m not asking her to babysit! But a second pair of eyes would be good for trick-or-treating. _You_ try keeping track of one Batgirl when there are twenty of them running around!”

“Thanks for the invitation,” Carolina says, amused. “But I think Kimball and Grey have something planned after Shabbat.”

She glances over at Church, who grimaces at the reminder and says, “Yeah, about that. Mind if I hang out outside the shul so we can go home together? I really don’t want to deal with their Halloween mania alone.”

“Sure,” Carolina says. “If you don’t think it’ll be too cold.”

He snorts. “I think I can survive 50 degrees.”

Tucker shrugs. “I don’t know. She’s got a point. You wear a sweatshirt and gripe about my cold basement like all the time.”

Church scowls. “That’s because your basement is freezing!”

“Church, can we trick or treat at your house?” Caboose asks. He bounces a little on the balls of his feet, smiling hopefully.

Church’s scowl turns to a thoughtful squint, and then a slight smirk spreads across his face. “Yeah, Caboose. Bring your seventeen sisters to my house. I’m sure Kimball and Grey have enough candy for everyone.”

Caboose beams. “That’s good that they’re so prepared. We eat a _lot_ of candy. But oh, there’s only ten trick-or-treating with me tonight. Naomi is going to be Batgirl like Wash’s sister, and Mary is going to be a witch, and P--”

“Yeah, great. Can’t wait to see the costumes, Caboose,” Church says hastily.  He looks like he’s already regretting inviting half of the Caboose family over.

“Oh gosh, I have to tell everyone! Is it okay if we save you for last? Oh this is going to be so much fun!” Caboose doesn’t wait for a response, but bolts down the hallway, still grinning from ear to ear.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Tucker says, and Church sighs.

 

* * *

 

One thing Simmons has learned over the last few months is that Grif sleeps like the dead. He still finds himself tiptoeing around the house, feeling ridiculous as he hangs up decorations. His pride smarts at the judgmental look on cashier’s face over his last minute purchases, but at least the store hadn’t been completely out of decorations.

Simmons hangs up black and orange streamers and fake cobwebs and carefully positions plastic pumpkins in the windows. Knowing his luck, decorating the apartment like a Halloween party is offensive to witches. Still, he needs to do _something_. Grif’s dismissal of the holiday has been nagging at him all day. The Grif he knows would at least try to have wheedled a big holiday dinner out of him.  

Simmons didn’t have enough forewarning to manage a big meal, but he bought pre-made pumpkin raviolis and Bagel Bites. He’s trying to carve out a few mozzarella ghosts to put on top of the bagel bites when Grif wakes up with a loud,  “Uh, what is this?”

“What does it look like?” Simmons calls, even as heat creeps into his face. This was stupid. Grif is going to make fun of him forever over this.

There’s a loud thud as Grif jumps off the couch. A few seconds later he pauses in the kitchen doorway, sniffing the air. He sounds confused. “Are you cooking?”

“Sort of. You wouldn’t tell me what kind of food witches have on Halloween,” Simmons says, a little defensively. “I’m cooking pumpkin ravioli, and then the bagel bites will be ready soon. Just have to do these...uh. Just decorating them now.”

“So you heard Halloween is a holiday for witches and went with bagel bites.” Grif still sounds more confused than anything else. He pads closer, wearing a look Simmons can’t interpret.

Simmons smiles tightly, embarrassment pricking at him. “Well, you didn’t say what witches eat for Halloween. And you like bagel bites.” He resists the urge to shield the mozzarella slices from Grif’s view as Grif jumps up onto the counter.

“Are those supposed to be ghosts?”

“Uh, yes?”

Grif snorts. “You’re such a nerd.”

Simmons rolls his eyes, still embarrassed but a little annoyed too. He wasn’t expecting a lot of gratitude, but the insults are a bit much. “Well, if you don’t want dinner, I can just get you some cat food.” He pretends to think, tapping his knife against the cutting board. “What feels like Halloween flavor to you? Turkey?”

“Hey, I wasn’t saying I wouldn’t eat it,” Grif says hastily. Then his ears go flat. “Uh, and you didn’t do anything bat-themed, right? No bat cookies or….”

“No.”

“Good,” Grif mutters.

Simmons squints at him. “Are you scared of bats?”

“No!” The denial’s almost a yowl. “I just think they’re overrated. Like, rats with wings, who cares. Now, how long before we can eat?”

Yeah, Grif is scared of bats. Simmons files that away for further discussion. “Another fifteen minutes.” He pauses, and glances sideways at Grif, whose tail has bristled at the mere potential of bat decorations. “What do you usually eat for Halloween?”

Grif stares with guileless mismatched eyes. It’s hard to gauge his honesty as he licks the tip of his nose and mutters, “Pizza and popcorn.”

Exasperation wins out over the last of Simmons’ embarrassment. “How is that different from any other day?”

“Dude, I told you. Halloween’s overrated. We just watch some scary movies.” Simmons wants to press for more details, but Grif jumps back down and heads back into the living room. “But the pumpkin ravioli doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Glad you approve,” Simmons says sarcastically. Then part of Grif’s words register. “Who’s we?”

“None of your business,” Grif says.

Simmons frowns at Grif, who’s jumped back onto the couch and is making himself comfortable. “What, I can’t know anything about your relatives? You know about mine!”

“Uh, yeah, because you talked a lot when you thought I was just a cat. Believe me, I didn’t want to know all about your daddy issues.”

Simmons flushes. “Shut up.”

Grif stretches out on the couch. “Fifteen minutes?”

“Fifteen minutes,” Simmons says, swallowing against disappointment. It’s not like he expects Grif to bare his soul, but still, they’ve been roommates for eight months and he doesn’t even know how close Grif is with his family.

“The last few years, we’ve been watching The Thing,” Grif says.

It’s said casually, but Simmons still turns and squints at him.  “The Thing,” he echoes.

“Yeah,” Grif says. “And some other ones that aren’t available to mortals.”

The timer for the raviolis goes off, but Simmons doesn’t move. “Wait, are there witch films?”

“Nah, not really. We mostly let mortals do the work. But witches keep copies of old films. There’s plenty that are considered lost in the mortal realm and still shown in theaters in the Other Realm.”

“Like what?” Simmons starts to ask, curious, but the timer beeps again. He huffs out a frustrated breath and goes back to the stove top.

“Uh, like stuff before the talkies,” Grif says. “I don’t have a memorized list.”

“Before the talkies,” Simmons mutters. He’s never sure how much to believe when Grif talks about witch immortality and claims to be hundreds of years old, but then Grif does something like casually use slang from the 1930s. He distracts himself by prepping the ravioli with olive oil and parmesan and dividing them on two plates. He gives up on the rest of the mozzarella ghosts and puts the bagel bites in the oven.

Over his shoulder, he calls, “We can get started. But we’re eating at the table.”

“Ugh, since when?”

“Since you spilled pizza sauce all over the cushion last week.”

“Whatever,” Grif says, but he hops into a chair at the kitchen table. He sniffs at the ravioli. “So, did you end up getting candy?”

“No.”

Grif stares at him. “Seriously? You bought streamers and fake cobwebs and no candy?”

“There wasn’t really any left,” Simmons says, remembering the judgy cashier all over again, who practically laughed in his face when he asked about candy. He rolls his eyes at Grif’s unimpressed look. “We did a rock candy experiment at school. You can have mine on Monday.”

“Thanks.” It’s hard to tell if he’s sincere or sarcastic. A second later Grif has his face buried in ravioli.

Simmons cuts one of his ravioli in two pieces. He wonders if he has any horror movies they can watch.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, brace yourself,” Church mutters as they approach the brownstone.

“What do you think they have planned?” Carolina asks, amused by Church’s obvious unease.

Church stares at her. When he speaks, he sounds like he’s talking through clenched teeth and wondering about her IQ. “Carolina, Grey made bats fly out of the wallpaper and then gave us pancakes that sang Halloween songs every time we took a bite. _And she’s going to do something even worse for dinner._ ”

“Well, we might as well find out what it is,” Carolina says with a shrug, and pushes him towards the door.

The door swings open as he stumbles towards it, and Grey smiles at them. She’s wearing a black dress with a pillowing dark purple cloak. She crooks a finger at them. “Come in, come in. Happy Halloween! Vanessa is setting the table now.”

“Let me guess, more singing food?” Church asks warily.

Grey giggles. “No, not at dinner.”

Church still stares suspiciously at the offered meal, though dinner looks like a relatively normal meal of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and roasted butternut squash. He eyes the turkey like he expects it to regrow its feathers and fly around the room.   
  
“Carolina,” Kimball says. “Has Church explained Halloween to you?”   
  
Carolina blinks.  “A little. It’s a family holiday for witches, right?”   
  
“Right.” A rueful smile curves Kimball’s face. “Witches don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, because of Puritans, but my family has always adapted Thanksgiving recipes for Halloween. All families do it a little differently, but Halloween isn’t Halloween without pumpkin pie and mashed potatoes. Next year we'll try Grey's family recipes.”   
  
“This is really good,” Carolina assures her. Even as she spoons gravy over her mashed potatoes, though, a thought occurs to her. She pauses, glancing between Grey and Kimball. “What about you guys? Are you missing family dinners?”   
  
Kimball’s rueful smile twists. “Yes.”

“Don’t worry,” Grey says with a giggle. “Vanessa’s parents are not pleased about her taking a forced sabbatical from her Quizmaster duties. I’m sure if she was there she’d be getting quite a scolding!”

“A forced sabbatical,” Carolina starts to say, but is interrupted by a deep sigh from Kimball.

“Grey….”

“Sorry!” Grey chirps, not sounding particularly apologetic. She tilts her head to the side, letting out a small sigh of her own. “I will admit, it is a little strange not to spend tonight with my family, but they understand that I have responsibilities. I’ll make it up to them!”

“You should visit them tonight,” Church suggests. “Kimball can keep us company.”

Grey wiggles a finger at him. “Nice try, but I wouldn’t miss your and Carolina’s first Halloween! There are so many songs to learn, and I doubt that Church has told you the story of the first Halloween.”

“Yeah, because it’s apocryphal,” Church says. He shrugs when Grey tsks loudly and wiggles her finger again. “A few of the songs are okay, I guess.”

Grey turns her finger wiggle into a clap of her hands. “After dinner we’ll teach Carolina some songs.”

Church’s face goes blank. “Great,” he says bleakly, and Carolina can tell he’s remembering their ill-fated band. He avoids her eyes. “Carolina sings….so good. Looking forward to it.”

Carolina hides her smirk behind her drink. “I’d love to learn a few songs.”

There’s a sound like a clap of thunder above them. The plates rattle as everyone looks up towards the ceiling. “Oh, I hope my parents listened when I said bringing the whole family here was out of the question,” Grey says with one of her rare frowns. She starts to stand.

“Hello!” a woman calls. “Is anyone home? I’m going to feel very silly if no one’s here!”  

Grey’s eyes widen and she laughs. She points a finger and a fifth plate and chair blink into existence. “Come downstairs! We’re having dinner!”

“Oh, wonderful! What are we having?” The woman who bounds into the room is short, round, dark-haired, and wearing a smile so wide that Carolina’s cheeks hurt in sympathy. She glances around the room and spreads her arms when she spies Church. She advances as he sinks in his seat. “James! My wonderful fake son! Hello!”

Church’s face blanches. He says in a hurried mutter, “To keep us out of each other's faces, keep Huggins away at least five paces.”

The woman stops as though she’s hit a wall. She blinks, and then throws her head back in a loud laugh. “Oh goodness. Like father, like son, I guess! Or should I say like original, like clone? You both really love that spell!”

Church glares. “Why are you here?”

Huggins shrugs, still smiling. “Well, Halloween _is_ for family. The Council might think it’s strange if I don’t visit my son. I’m not a mortal, after all. I won’t turn into a ball of wax!” She throws in the final sentence with a sympathetic look in Carolina’s direction. Before Carolina can react, she adds cheerfully, “Besides I don’t have anyone to celebrate with this year. My uncle’s on vacation, and I was a little lonely!”

She takes a step towards the chair Grey summoned, but it’s too close to Church. She stops with another laugh. “Mind if I sit down? I promise not to hug you!”  

“Church,” Kimball says when Church just stares. She doesn’t say anything else, but her expression is enough.

Church sighs and undoes the spell.  

“Thank you!” Huggins says. She looks at the assembled food. Her expression falls and she looks momentarily stricken. “Oh dear, I should have brought something. I’m such a bad guest!”

“Yeah, especially since you weren’t invited,” Church mutters under his breath.

“I haven’t summoned the pumpkin pie yet,” Kimball says.

Huggins brightens. “Then I’ll do the honors!” A second later, there’s a steaming pumpkin pie, already carved into five slices, on the table. She turns towards Church. “So, James, I feel like I should get to know you! What’s your favorite class?”

Church looks imploringly at Carolina, who shrugs. Deadpan, he says, “Lunch.”

Huggins laughs. She’s clearly about to ask more questions.

Carolina’s been enjoying watching Church squirm, but she takes pity as he starts looking hunted. She clears her throat, drawing Huggins’ attention. “I think Doctor Grey was about to tell the story of Halloween.”

“Oh, it’s such a good story!” Huggins says.

“Sure,” Church says without enthusiasm. Then he frowns and glances towards the living room. A puzzled frown flickers across his face. “Hey, why haven’t we had any mortals knocking at the door?”

Grey waves a hand. “Oh, I did a distraction spell so we wouldn’t be disturbed by trick-or-treaters.”

This is clearly news to Kimball, who frowns. “I bought two bowls worth of candy. Undo that spell.”

“Or _we_ could have the candy,” Church suggests.

“Well, Vanessa, if you don’t mind constant interruptions,” Grey says. She points a finger in the direction of the living room and intones as Church slumps down in his chair, “We once were hidden, now we’re not. Allow mortals to see this spot.”

Almost instantly the doorbell rings.

Huggins bounces to her feet. “Oh, may I? We don’t get trick-or-treaters on the moon!” She doesn’t give Grey or Kimball a chance to respond, but bolts for the front door. After a second, Carolina exchanges a look with Kimball and follows.

“Trick or treat!” three children chant, holding out bags and smiling expectantly.

“For you? Definitely treat!” Huggins says. She takes one of the bowls at the front door and pours half of the candy into the three bags. “Happy Halloween!”

The kids’ eyes widen as Kimball sighs. One of them squints into his bag. “Uh, did you mean--”

“Shut up,” one of the other kids hisses. “Happy Halloween!”

“We’re coming back here next year, right?” the last one whispers. “Look, they’re _full-sized candy bars_.”

“I hate this holiday,” Church says, almost matter-of-fact, as Huggins closes the door. He sulks at Carolina’s shoulder, his arms crossed; she notices that he’s put her between himself and Huggins.

“Buy yourself some candy tomorrow,” Carolina says. “Didn’t Niner say it would be discounted?”

Church makes a face. “Free candy tastes better.”  

Kimball looks like she can’t decide between amusement and exasperation. She clears her throat and says, “Doctor Huggins, generally we give out one or two candy bars, not the whole bowl.”

“Oh, my mistake!”

The doorbell rings again, and then keeps ringing, like someone’s forgotten to take their finger off the button. When Huggins opens the door, a familiar voice bellows, “Trick or-- Um, hello strange lady who is not Doctor Grey or Ms. Kimball! Am I at the wrong house? Oh! Oh gosh, is this a trick?”

“Crap,” Church groans. He starts to sidle backwards and stops as Doctor Grey calls from behind him, sounding pleased, “Hello, Michael! Are you and your sisters enjoying your Halloween?”

Caboose walks inside, ducking carefully so that the ballerina on his shoulders doesn’t smack her head on the door-frame. “Hello, Doctor Grey! Yes, we’re having a good time! Happy Halloween!” He beams at Church. “Hello, Church!”

“Hey, Caboose.”

Caboose turns a curious look on Huggins as he kneels and his sister hops off his shoulders. The ballerina immediately makes a beeline to the candy bowls, not touching them, but staring longingly until Kimball sighs and begins to pass out candy to all ten girls. Carolina’s amused to see they’re all tall and broad-shouldered like their brother.

Huggins smiles and extends her hand. “Hello! I’m Church’s mom!”

Caboose’s eyes widen. He ignores the hand in favor of barreling forward and hugging her. “Oh my gosh. MRS. CHURCH’S MOM, IT IS SO NICE TO YOU!”

Huggins lets out a surprised, delighted giggle as he lifts her off the floor and then hugs him back.

Over her head, Caboose says excitedly, "Church, your mom is REALLY GOOD AT HUGGING. OH GOSH, AND HER NAME IS HUGGINS. DID SHE CHANGE HER NAME OR IS THAT JUST THE UNIVERSE BEING FUNNY??"

“The universe hates me,” Church says flatly. “Caboose, put her down.”

Caboose obeys, but he’s vibrating with excitement. “Hello, ma’am. I am Church’s very best friend.”

“Hello!” Huggins says again. She looks around at the Caboose sisters, and then up at a couple of the tallest. She claps her hands. “Oh, it’s so nice to celebrate Halloween in the mort-- I mean, here! I love seeing how children enjoy the holiday, it’s too cold for too many costumes on the m-- I mean, in, um, Alabama--”

“Alaska,” Church corrects.

Huggins doesn’t bat an eye at the correction, just smiles even wider. “--And here you all are, with your bats, and ballerinas and firefighters, and other wonderful costumes! It’s so much fun!”

“Where’s your costume?” one of the little girls asks.

Huggins looks struck by this. “Oh, that’s a good question. I should wear one, shouldn’t I?” she says. She doesn’t gesture at herself, or start to recite a spell, but Church lunges forward and grabs her wrist anyway.

He laughs nervously. “Gee, Mom, didn’t you leave your costume upstairs?” His voice is pitched too high, his voice partially cracking on the word ‘Mom.’ He’s such a terrible liar, Carolina thinks, for what feels like the hundredth time. “Why don’t you go change?”

“Oh,” Huggins says, drawing out the word. She uses her free hand to tap the side of her nose and wink at him. “You’re right.”

“Your mom is so nice,” Caboose says earnestly as Huggins goes upstairs.

Multiple emotions chase themselves across Church’s features. Then he sighs, his shoulders slumping as resignation wins out over the rest. “Thanks, Caboose.”

“How do I look?” Huggins calls from the top of the stairs.

Carolina looks up and laughs as Church starts sputtering.

“Very nice, Hilary,” Grey says, giggling.

Huggins is dressed as a stereotypical witch, from the tip of her pointed black hat to her boots. She beams and twirls her broom at Grey’s compliment. “I thought I’d stick with tradition!”

“Oh no, she’s scary!” says one of the Caboose sisters, and two others nod in agreement, hiding behind their brother.

Huggins frowns. She takes the steps two at a time, and bends towards the girls to say earnestly, “Witches aren’t scary. Anyone who tells you they are is just pushing the Puritan propaganda. Why, the stories I could tell you about Saint Nicholas--”

“Santa Claus is a witch?” Carolina whispers to Kimball, who sighs.

“Don’t forget about Glinda the Good Witch,” Church says quickly.

Caboose nods. “Yeah, Naomi. Glinda the Good Witch is nice!”  

“I guess,” Naomi says doubtfully.

“Wow,” says another, awed and oblivious to the conversation. “Is this a full-sized candy bar?”

Kimball looks at the now-empty candy bowls. She sighs. “I should’ve bought more candy.”

 

* * *

 

It takes Simmons a few minutes to set up the movie, The Creature From the Black Lagoon, which is less horror and more cheesy thriller. He’s a little distracted by Grif. Usually Grif will just flop in the middle of the couch, taking up as much space as possible and leaving Simmons squeezed into one corner, but tonight he keeps padding back and forth, kneading the cushions, unable to settle.

“Listen,” Grif says, and Simmons pauses, his finger hovering over the play button. “About next Halloween. Yeah, sure, it’s a family thing, but, uh, they don’t know I’m a cat.” He snorts. “I kind of want to see how long it takes for anyone to figure it out.”

Simmons opens his mouth, and then closes it. Grif’s tone is sarcastic, but the joke falls flat. Ten years might be nothing for immortal witches, but would no one really notice if Grif dropped off the face of the earth? “They don’t know?” he asks in disbelief. “Wasn’t there a trial?”  

“Yeah, a sham one. My family’s not big into politics.”

“Okay, but you really think no one will mention you’re a cat to your family?”

“A guy can dream,” Grif mutters. He resettles on the couch, tail still twitching. He reaches out and tugs the popcorn bowl closer, and Simmons watches in resignation as he paws some of the kernels onto the couch. Sounding more like himself, he swallows the popcorn and says, “Let’s watch the movie.”  

Simmons shakes his head. “Okay. But I think your family’s going to figure it out.”

Grif grumbles.

Simmons presses play, turns off the lights, and goes to sit down. As the opening credits roll, he eyes the bowl, wondering if he should bother, or if he’s just going to pick cat fur off each kernel.

Fifteen minutes into the movie, the popcorn is gone and Grif is in Simmons’ lap.

Simmons freezes as Grif flops across his thighs. He blinks, but in the flickering light from the TV, all he can see is Grif’s vague outline. He waits for Grif to realize what he did, or for Grif to keep moving to the arm rest or hop up behind Simmons onto the back of the couch, but Grif just sits there, a warm, heavy weight. Simmons doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Should he cross his arms? Should he rest them at his sides?

He must fidget because Grif says, “Don’t make it weird.”

“ _You_ made it weird,” Simmons snaps automatically, but he relaxes a little at the familiar snark, and the huff of breath that’s Grif’s equivalent of a laugh. His nerves settle slowly. He even manages to refocus on the movie, though he’s still acutely aware of Grif.   

Grif doesn’t move, but his tail thrashes slowly as the music gets more intense. He snorts. “Trust you to have cheesy movies instead of anything actually scary. Hey, idiot, look behind you.”

“Grif, they can’t hear you,” Simmons says, amused, and is promptly shushed. He rolls his eyes, and then half-laughs, half-winces as a jump-scare makes Grif startle, claws pricking Simmons’ skin through his pants. “Scared? I thought you said it was cheesy.”

“Shut up. I'm just getting comfortable.”  
  
“Uh huh,” Simmons says skeptically. His smirk turns into a grimace as Grif retaliates by kneading his knee. “Ow, fine. You weren’t scared.”

Grif resettles. He heckles the movie once or twice more, but under his breath, so Simmons ignores it. Then he gets quiet.

Simmons assumes he’s absorbed in the movie; he only realizes Grif is asleep when the music gets quiet enough for him to hear Grif’s snuffling snore. He grins. He’s read somewhere that cats sleep anywhere from sixteen to twenty hours a day, but he suspects Grif would sleep that much even human. Still, he keeps his voice pitched low as he says, “Hey, wake up,” because Grif is most cat-like when he’s waking up out of a nap and he doesn’t want his legs shredded.

Grif keeps snoring.

Simmons shifts slightly, but Grif is draped solidly across his lap. There’s no way he can stand up without waking Grif. He should wake up Grif.

He doesn’t do it immediately. The movie’s still playing, and it’s a Friday night. He can go to bed a little later than usual. He’ll wake Grif up in an hour or two. In the meantime, he’s pretty comfortable, despite the slight pins and needles. It’s actually been the nicest holiday he’s had in a while. Holidays with his father always ended in tears, and the holidays since his father all but disowned him have been better, but still lonely.

He’s not lonely now, Simmons thinks, with a strange dip in his stomach. He doesn’t let himself consider eight more years of this, but he thinks about Thanksgiving and Christmas, and even birthdays. He wonders what kind of witch traditions surround birthdays.  

The music picks up in intensity, but Simmons relaxes against the cushion. He rests his hand on Grif’s head, lightly, so not to wake him, and whispers, “Happy Halloween, Grif.”    

 

* * *

 

“Mikey, we have to finish our list,” one of Caboose’s sisters says, tugging at his sleeve.

Caboose’s face falls. He looks torn, glancing between Church and his sisters, before his expression sets. “I have to go. Rachel made a list of houses that give the best candy, and we’re going to go to all of them.” He brightens a little, either over the candy, or the fact that Caboose doesn’t seem like a guy who can stay sad for long. He smiles at Huggins. “Goodbye, Mrs. Church’s mom! It was nice to meet you.”

“Goodbye, Michael,” Huggins says. “Thank you for being my son’s friend!”

“Best friend,” Caboose corrects her earnestly as Church makes a face. He turns and spreads out his arms. “Bye, Church!”

“To keep us--” Church says, a third way through the spell before he clamps his jaw shut and sulkily submits to one of Caboose’s bone-crushing hugs. He gets that look on his face, the one he always wears when Caboose hugs him, a half-annoyed, half-pleased look.

“Oh, are we hugging?” Huggins says in delight, and joins in as Church yelps a protest.

Caught between Caboose and Huggins, Church rolls his eyes desperately in Carolina’s direction. “Help me,” he mouths, and scowls as Carolina laughs out loud.

She’s never been a big hug person, her mom being the sole exception, but she’ll make an exception to watch consternation fill Church’s expression. He groans in defeat as she joins in, throwing her one arm across Huggins’ shoulder and the other arm somewhere between Caboose’s shoulder-blades and waist.

A sudden flash startles them all. When they all look in the light’s direction, Grey beams at them. “Hilary needs a photograph to take home to Alaska! Michael, I’ll give you a copy the next time you visit.”

“Thank you, Doctor Grey,” Caboose says. He releases Church, gives them all one last grin, and then herds his ten sisters out the door. Carolina does a head count and a quick survey of the living room to make sure one doesn’t get left behind by accident.

“I would love a copy of that photograph, Emily!” Huggins gushes. “The fake photo album would feel so much more authentic with a real picture!”

“Wait, what?” Church says, alarmed and suspicious. “What photo album?”

Huggins grins. “This one,” she says, and claps her hands. A photo album drops into Church’s hands and is heavy enough that he staggers a little, knocking into Carolina. "I had to make something to show the Council when they sent someone around asking questions about my illegitimate son!" 

Carolina steadies him, but half her attention is already on the album. It has a cheesy phrase on the front - _When You Have Family, You Have Everything_ \- and a photograph of Huggins and a baby that looks vaguely like what Carolina would imagine Church as a baby. It’s weird, but also hilarious. “I love this holiday,” she says.

Church groans. “I hate this holiday.”

“I love this holiday!” Grey chirps. She launches into song. “Halloween, o’happy day. Halloween, o’ happy day!”

 

* * *

 

_Dear Councilman Hargrove,_

_Thank you for the attempted invitation, but I would have refused your charitable gesture. I've always thought that Halloween was more suited for contemplation than mindless, shallow social gatherings. It's a pity you don't have a family yourself to celebrate with, as I will once my daughter has passed her examination, but do enjoy the ball and have a pleasant holiday with your superiors._

_Most sincerely,_

_Doctor Leonard Church_

**Author's Note:**

> **Dishonorable Mention**
> 
> 1x21 - Bespell the Halls - Listen, Simmons’ terrible Christmas sweater and Caboose being adorably confused about Hanukkah and trying to give an increasingly exasperated Church presents for every day of the holiday cannot save this episode. First off, doing a string of holiday episodes was a bit much. Second, the show also wanted to include the “magic of Christmas” and things got muddled and stupid. And finally, I personally will be forever salty that we didn’t get Grif and Simmons celebrating their first Christmas together. We were robbed! Robbed!


End file.
